


Whatever Gets You Through the Night

by Lady_Ganesh



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-18
Updated: 2012-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-29 17:40:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Lestrade have some time to themselves after the events of "The Hounds of Baskerville." Mild spoilers for that episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever Gets You Through the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Tiggy Malvern for betaing.

It was close to two when they finally made it back to the inn, damp, cold, and tired of talking to the local police. Henry had insisted on going back to his own house, and John had managed to talk the local magistrate into keeping an eye on the place for the night, just in case. Henry would likely hold on until morning, between his happiness at a resolution and Greg's decision to take his gun away. "I'll pretend I didn't see this in your hand," he said gruffly. "I'll tell them some poor sod must've dropped it out on the moor."

"All right, then," Henry had said. He looked like he'd just cast off a demon. John almost wanted to give the poor kid a hug.

Gary and Billy, bless them, had kept the taps open with all the excitement and offered Sherlock, John and Greg pints on the house. Sherlock declined, preferring to rush up to the room to type up his case notes. No doubt he'd collapse later; he took up most of the bed, all elbows and legs. John and Greg stayed at the bar and chewed the case over.

"So how'd you end up here?" John asked, when he was halfway through his pint. "Really."

Greg sighed. "Sherlock isn't entirely wrong. I came back from holiday and got told 'oh, we've made a mistake, you've another week off, why don't you take it? Now?' Then I got back to the flat and I've 'won' a free room here. Not terribly subtle, the Holmes brothers."

John shook his head. "I thought Mycroft only bothered with me for the longest time."

"Well," Greg tipped his glass up and took a drink. "Took a bit of the pressure off me when you moved in, I suppose. Used to be I'd be halfway through a case and get reassigned, because it was something Sherlock bloody Holmes had an interest in."

"They're both mad, aren't they," John said thoughtfully.

"Barking."

John laughed. "How did we end up here?"

 _"I_ found a junkie sniffing around my crime scene and was too stupid to strangle him on sight," Greg said. "Damned if I know how you got pulled in."

"Well, he's amazing," John said. "I suppose that started it."

Greg drained the rest of his glass. "You say things like that, and then you wonder why people think you're together."

"But we're not," John said.

Greg lifted an eyebrow.

"And that's not what you said," John conceded. "Fair enough. He's still amazing, you have to give me that."

"That he is," Greg agreed, setting his glass down. "Well, I'm off to bed. You going up?"

"Yeah, I might as well. Sherlock's probably dead to the world by now."

"You can stay in my room, if you'd like. Might be easier."

John got up. "It'd probably scandalize Gary and--" The implications of what he'd just said sunk in. "Yes. I think I'll do that. Thanks."

 

John got undressed while Greg changed; wherever he'd been on vacation, it'd suited him. The tan on his chest and back testified to the time he'd spent in the sun, and he seemed more relaxed and comfortable in his own skin. John would never tell the man, but the divorce had done him some good; probably having the matter settled had eased things.

"Any preferences on side?" Greg asked.

John shrugged. "It's your bed."

Greg flashed him a grin and took the left-hand side, next to the table and the beaded lamp. John slid in next to him. "Night," he said.

"Night," Greg said, and turned out the light.

They lay there in the dark for a while. Every time John closed his eyes he could see that bloody dog; red eyes, white teeth.

"You awake?" Greg asked quietly, when the silence had grown unbearable.

"Mmm," John said.

Greg shifted his weight, and his thigh pressed back against John's. "All right?"

"Had worse nights," John said. The light was filtering in through the curtains. John could see the outline of the bathroom door.

"Yeah," Greg said softly. "Me too." He rolled onto his back, the fabric of his cotton pyjamas warm against John's thigh, the contact a low buzz of electricity between them. "You want--"

John rolled onto his back and looked at Greg, wanting to be sure of what the man was offering. There was enough light to see Greg's face. He was serious. He was offering. "I'm not gay," John said.

"I'm not either." Lestrade rolled over to his side, so he was facing John. He put his hand on John's shoulder, solid and warm. "Not really what it's about though, is it?"

 _More about friendship,_ John thought. _And getting some bloody sleep._ "All right," he said, and turned fully to face Lestrade. "You any good at this?"

Lestrade laughed. "I have no idea," he said, turning and slipping his hand into the front of John's boxers.

"Oh," John said. "Oh, God. Yes."

Lestrade's fingers were rough and sure and warm. "All right, then?"

"All right. More than-- Christ, don't slow down!"

"Oh, really?" The fingers on his cock slowed, teasing, more gentle. "Hmmm...."

"Oh, you utter _bastard--"_

It felt fantastic, even as Lestrade chuckled at his frustration and _twisted_ his fingers in a way that made John shudder and curse again. Still, the initial surprise had worn off, and John could pull together enough thought to realize that Lestrade would be expecting some reciprocation. He reached toward the waist of Lestrade's pyjamas.

"C'mere, you," he said, and shifted closer.

It was good hearing Lestrade laugh; better still to make him gasp the way John had been gasping, his cock unfamiliar but easy enough to please.

"Ah," Lestrade said, "Christ, yes," and John grinned; he'd always prided himself on not leaving a partner unsatisfied, after all. John even got a few curses and names out of Lestrade before the man climaxed in his hand. John followed behind, pleasure flashing behind his eyelids.

"Well," John said. "Thank you."

"There's a flannel in the bath," Lestrade said, and went to get it. They cleaned up, and Lestrade asked, "All right?"

"You're quite good at this," John remarked.

"You weren't so bad yourself," Lestrade said, tossing the flannel in the direction of the bath.

"Well, I've had years of practice."

Lestrade chuckled and settled back into bed. "Let's get some sleep."

"Mmm," John agreed. "And I hope I don't dream of any bloody hounds."

"Same," Lestrade said, his voice already thick with sleep.

John closed his eyes and saw Lestrade's smile behind his eyes as he drifted off.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Doubles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/414061) by [Jain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jain/pseuds/Jain)




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